Seven Deadly Sins
by Sammie-Chan
Summary: [SanaAto] [Yaoi] [Multiple AU Oneshots] [A series of oneshots regarding the pair Sanada and Atobe, with regard to the theme of sins.]
1. Anger

**Prologue**

The seven deadly sins are fascinating in my eyes. Each reflects a part of human nature that is identifiable in a negative fashion. To grasp the meaning behind the short collection of works, one must understand the context and nature of these sins; such that the following sins can be understood easily.

**Anger. - **_Linked with the bear and the colour red._

**Sloth. - **_L__inked with the goat and the colour light blue._

**Envy. - **_Linked with the dog and the colour green._

**Pride. - **_Linked with the horse and the colour violet._

**Gluttony. **Linked with the pig and the colour orange.

**Avarice. - **_L__inked with the frog and the colour yellow._

**Lust. - **_Linked with the cow and the colour blue._

Though technically, do you really care about my notes? I have a sinking suspicion that you don't really. Which is fine by me, I'm glad that you've even found this remotely interesting and worth your time. So for that I am grateful.

Oh yes. I must say, you must be ready for this wondrous angst trip… because as it seems, it's the only thing I can write that sounds remotely… good. All of these stories are set in (mostly) different settings. I just hope you can figure out which is which, because I'm not going to tell you. Yes I am that mean.

**Release Notes**

Before, I had originally intended to release this fanfiction on Atobe's birthday (4th October). But as it is, it ISN'T Atobe's Birthday anymore. Better late than never right?

**Disclaimer**

I, a mere fanfiction writer (who I must add, cannot write), in no way own the boys that have been mentioned in this piece of text. Purely fictional to satiate the little monster inside of me… and everyone else that likes Tenipuri and the Tango Pair. They belong to Takeshi Konomi, and well… I'm jealous… wish I could draw like him… anyway, I wouldn't be sitting around WRITING really if I owned them… if you catch my drift. Seigaku really should lose. Who really cares about TENNIS anyway. We're in it for the sexy young boys anyway.

**Betas**

Thanks to **Kira **for being the most wonderful beta

**Anger.**

The day couldn't begin any better. The sun shone brightly into his eyes as he rose from the clutching hands of sleep. Bed tousled hair and an exposed muscular chest, Sanada Genichirou looked at the man that slept so peacefully next to him. He ran a loving hand through the soft locks and then slipped smoothly out of the futon. He knew Atobe Keigo wasn't the type to be waking up with the sun – his spoiled nature as a child reflected in his sleeping habits.

After cleaning up and relieving himself, Sanada pulled on a navy blue hakama1 and proceeded to the dojo. Sanada cleared his mind of thoughts and worries of the upcoming war as he slipped into a meditative state. He focussed on his breathing and slowly succumbed to the gentle calm feeling inside of him that consumed his thoughts. His mind, however, couldn't keep strictly disciplined and Sanada found himself wondering about many different events that had occurred throughout the year; the pleasant and the bad.

One major change in life was having rescued Atobe from the evil clutches of Seigaku, where he was being used as a mediocre source of entertainment. The once proud man had become little less than a shell of the man he used to be. The earlier months had been hard on both Sanada and Atobe; one who didn't have the heart and the other missing a soul. Often, the younger man would refuse to eat, something niggling at his conscious and his eyes would glaze over. During these times, Atobe was weary and untrusting over everyone and everything. It took all of Sanada's restraint and patience to not forcefully feed the stubborn – yet broken- man.

The general of the great army was famous for being tolerant, if anything else. Through this patience, did Atobe slowly recover and became the arrogant man that Sanada had once known before the ill-timed imprisonment by Seigaku's Army. Atobe recovered his strength and arrogance within the year – much to the relief of Sanada and the rest of the Rikkai inner circle – and Atobe would happily order around Sanada as he chose, which the lenient general endured for his sake.

Frustrated with himself at his wondering mind Sanada got off tatami floor. He selected a bokken2 off the rack and began to move through his katas3. He shifted easily and fluidly from one to the next, each getting progressively harder and challenging. It was only a matter of time that his lover would notice the lack of warmth in the futon made for two and would come to seek him out in the dojo, as Atobe tended to do everyday.

An hour went past and a healthy sheen of sweat coated Sanada's skin. It was unusual that Atobe be absent. If Sanada could compare Atobe to an animal, it would have to be a limpet or a puppy; but he never dared to tell Atobe in fear of losing something else important to him.

The general sighed and frowned. His sixth sense was at ill ease and somehow he knew Atobe was in some form of trouble. Replacing the bokken carelessly onto the wooden rack on the wall, Sanada grabbed his katana4 that was propped against the dojo walls and strode quickly to his room.

There, he saw a scene that most displeased him. Atobe had been gagged – the outer layer of his attire had been removed, leaving the young man clad in only the cotton yukata he loved wearing to sleep. The sapphire haori5 lay in a pile, tossed carelessly to the side. It was the first thing Sanada had found Atobe asleep in when he had been away for a skirmish on the southern borders. When Sanada had asked him why he had taken the haori, Atobe merely smiled and said, "Because it reminded me of you, even when you're in the midst of battle somewhere. I can still feel your warmth and your scent upon the fabric."

Sanada felt his blood boil, and the bloodlust that he kept under careful constraints was unleashed. The worthless soldiers that surrounded him were shouting abuse at Atobe and some were starting to have that particular gleam in their eyes that appeared when men stepped into an unprotected house full of women.

His anger fuelled his need to protect Atobe, and within minutes, each and every underling had some form of wound upon his person – some getting off easy with a cut or two, others missing fingers having met the wrong end of Sanada's rage. His normally expressionless face was contorted into a mask of anger; something that had added to his repertoire of names.

The men ran out of the room at the sound of feet along the corridors, a look of pure fright on their face. Yukimura-ou6 and Yanagi-sama7 (the strategist of the Rikkai Army) appeared at the room. The situation quickly sunk into their minds and they knew any form of help from them wouldn't be of use. Atobe couldn't recognise them now that he was revisiting a nightmare; a look of pure mortification upon the man's features.

Sanada let his katana drop onto the floor, his body numb from the physical exertion his ire had required. Atobe's normally blue, playful eyes were glazed over, and when Sanada tried to approach him, he merely backed away more. The general felt his heart ache.

"Keigo?" Sanada said softly, his tone suddenly hoarse. He didn't move. "Keigo… please…" He offered a hand to his lover, his heart bracing itself to the flinch that was presumably coming. However, when he found himself with a weeping and clearly frightened man in his arms, Sanada knew whatever mirage Atobe had created in his mind was subdued enough for him to recognise him.

Nobody moved; each of the Rikkai born men focused his attention on Atobe. "Seiichi… Renji…" His two friends nodded and left the room, closing the shoji doors on their way out. Yanagi, with his famed quick thinking and intuition, created a cover story and with the emperor's authority, none was allowed into Sanada's resident wing of the palace.

Cradling his lover gently, Sanada lay on the floor, muscles unmoving. He breathed slowly, knowing the steady rise and fall of his chest would eventually lull his lover to sleep. Time slowed down and nothing else mattered in the world except for the beautiful man that lay on top of him.

Come night time, Atobe stirred from the comfortable position he was in. His normally bright blue eyes were glazed over by past activities. Atobe couldn't remember what had happened in the morning, but he dismissed the sense of foreboding that rose from the depths of his stomach. "Genichirou?" There wasn't a response from the man below him. Keigo thought that was strange and he slowly sat up before a hand rose to stop him.

"Don't… move," Sanada's normally calm voice was lined with pain, no matter how hard Sanada tried to hide it. Atobe placed a hand on his stomach in alarm and pulled it back when he noticed the flinch. Raising his hand to the moonlight, he noticed the glistening dark warm liquid on his fingertips.

Atobe hesitated. "How did this happen? Did I-" He didn't want to finish the sentence. In the moonlight, he could see the sheen of sweat that covered his lover. Sanada was breathing hard and he touched the back of his hand to his lover's forehead. Sanada had broken out into a high fever. "We must get you to Yagyuu-san. You're burning up! I'll go-"

But he was cut off. "I'm fine… It's just a scratch… Please don't leave me Keigo…" The pain that Sanada tried carefully to mask was evident and clearer in Atobe's mind. He could only begin to imagine the pain and the pure physical exertion Sanada had to use to try and seem normal.

"I don't want to lose you. Please, just let me get Yagyuu…" He didn't get a response. Atobe's heart nearly stopped. It couldn't be. Something like this couldn't happen to the great lord. It was preposterous to think that the demon king of Rikkai would die anywhere but the battlefield. Let alone for a man, a lover, who had come from a territory now riddled with ashes. Sanada deserved a heroic end, not some petty underhanded attack from lowly men.

He couldn't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Genichirou…" He lowered himself gently back onto his lover's still warm chest, his ear above Sanada's heart; the heart that Sanada had willingly given to him. Atobe felt his insides churn, trying to hear the soft thump-thump that indicated any sign of life. "You can't do this to me, Genichirou…" Atobe whispered, gritting his teeth to stop the tears from flowing. Now wasn't the time to cry and be twitchy. He had to be strong for the both of them.

Atobe felt fear and utter loathing to the men that had treated him like filth. For hurting the only man that had ever turned to look his way with a gentle smile that was only reserved for him. They deserved nothing but death.

But he also felt anger towards himself for being so incapable of protecting Sanada, and he vowed whilst hovering over Yagyuu worriedly that he _will _become someone that Sanada could depend on. Even if that meant having to face the fears he had been running away from.

"Genichirou…"

1 Japanese Style Pants

2 Bamboo Sword

3 Forms

4 Japanese Sword

5 Haori: Japanese Style Jacket

6 -ou: meaning of royalty

7 -sama: lord


	2. Sloth

**Reviewers**

Thank you all for reading Anger. This is the second installment – Sloth - and I am profusely sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Once again, I do not own any characters that feature in this fanfiction. The only profit I get from this is the amusement and knowledge that I am spreading the tango pair love.

Thank you **Kira** who had beta'd the first edition, however I have changed this since and it has gone unbeta-d. Also a thank you to **shinobee** for pointing out some mistakes. If there are any more mistakes, please feel free to point them out and I will gladly correct them. Now onwards!

**Sloth.**

The clock continued to tick rhythmically in the corner; the incessant mechanical skip around the clock face the only sound in the darkness. He was waiting. It seemed that was all he ever did: wait. He eased himself into a high panel chair, providing a stunning view of the city; lights glistening with the busy nightlife. The glass provided a shield from the busy hustle and bustle of the office workers going home or the young beautiful things that were so naïve of the world that they constantly search for amusement each night. He waited.

The belief of a perfect relationship is only what a deluded mind concocts; it never is the fairytale ending that so many men and women alike assure themselves that their partner is the one. Just like how his love towards his insufferable partner was starting to fray at the edges. It isn't always about the birds and the bees. The arguments daily and the absence of that one man was the result of all the stress and animosity that had grown between them without their knowledge; he knew this relationship was killing him, draining him. Physically and mentally.

Of course, they might not have an argument. His mind argues, nostalgic about the passionate love making that was to suffice as a sort of apology. It might always be a ploy to shut you up a rational logical part of his mind piped up. He decided he didn't like that part of his mind. Pulling off his silver-framed glasses, he set the pair of expensive glasses on the side table to join an assortment of empty liquor bottles.

The grandfather clock chimed as the big hand finally hit the o'clock. Atobe stared at the heirloom; the giant clock having been passed down for many generations in his family now resided in his apartment that he shared with Sanada. He chuckled bitterly at the useless thought, gripping the neck of a wine bottle and took a deep swallow. The alcoholic liquid burned down his throat and he savoured the strange feeling; comforting yet a unique experience altogether.

After mulling over the past few weeks, he continued to wallow in his sorrow; and in a fit of rage threw the bottle clear across the room at the immaculate white walls. The bottle easily broke into many pieces, leaving a smear of red on the wall. Such was the vibrant colour of red wine, he mused, red wine that looked so alike the red blood that ran in his veins. The same red blood that had once flowed freely from his wrists as he once had slid the skin that kept all that dark, dark liquid inside.

He could not feel all the more hopeless and once again he stared at the intricate face of the old grandfather clock. He isn't coming home. With a tired sigh, Atobe placed his right hand over his face and succumbed to the persuasive hands of sleep that had tugged at him ever since the little black hand of the timepiece had passed midnight.

He woke up later from his dreamless slumber; sunlight streaming down upon his face. In an attempt to block out the offending rays of light, Atobe threw his right arm over his face. It was on days like this, when he woke up alone on the spacious king-sized bed, that he regretted having to depend on company. Lonely mornings always felt cold and the emptiness in his heart made him so very alone.

Turning his head to the left, he cracked open his left eye to observe the white cotton sheets that adorned his bed. The same white cotton sheets that appeared so sterile and artificial; bleak and bare. Like the hygienic atmosphere that he had experienced so many years ago when he had been hospitalised by frantic parents that never knew. They were so unaware of the way their son truly felt and ignorant of the façade that had been so convincingly genuine. The white linen made his sun-kissed skin stand out like a beacon and sometimes, sometimes, he felt like an intruder in his own home.

Minutes rolled by, and Atobe didn't move. His mind wasn't functioning properly and the usual rational part of his mind was on mute. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over to the other side of the bed. No one had slept on this side for nearly a month – or so it felt like to him – and there was an ache in his heart like a part of him was missing.

Burying his nose into the pillow, he could still smell the way his lover had every morning after a post-coital snuggle. A spicy mix of inexpensive soap, Atobe had tried to wean Sanada off the cheap stuff to a more fragrant bath gel that he had shipped every Sunday from a little shop in England; Atobe's aftershave and that damn hat of his, even if it had been abandoned upon entering university – or so Sanada had said.

The day wore on and he didn't move; muscles had a sense of weight to them as if lead bars had been tied to every joint in his body. Atobe continued to brood, finding no desire to eat or move; his mind blissfully selected the option of turning blank. He heard the surprised gasp of the cleaning maid, unused to the still figure of her employer and quickly dashed out with a muffled apology. Normally, he and Sanada would both have been at work and if Atobe guessed the time, he had a suspicion that Sanada would usually be waiting in the lobby of his office. How nostalgic.

Warm bright colours of the sun and day slowly faded into the cooler, darker hues of night. Atobe curled up in a foetal position, head on Sanada's pillow, and willed himself not to let the solitude and silence affect him so much. He pondered over at the probability of his life running in accordance to his master plan and was defeated by even the muted rational part of him.

It never does.

Closing his eyes once again, he willed the cold from his heart away. Atobe pulled the cotton sheets even tighter around him; the linen doing nothing to keep the solitude at bay.

* * *

Sanada turned the key and pushed the unlocked door silently open. He glanced down at the silver watch that was adorned on his wrist; the little glow-in-the-dark hands pointing at an hour that people were normally asleep. Walking into the entrance hall, he dumped his briefcase and traversed the threshold to find his sleeping lover. 

With a small fond smile, he shrugged off the trench coat and draped the coat over the slighter man; wishing that instead of the fabric that touched Atobe's skin, was himself. However, Sanada was uncertain that the physical contact would be welcome and due to the friction between them over the past month, he wasn't even sure if Atobe warranted his permission to touch him at all.

Running his hand through his hair which fundamentally brushed back his bangs, Sanada surveyed the living room. From the last time he had visited he was pretty sure that red streak of- his heart wrenched as he strode towards the splash. There was broken glass surrounding the mark and he picked up a shard; careful of the sharp edges. He signed in relief when he realised it was not blood; not Atobe's blood.

But was this a sign of what could have happened? Sanada shuddered at the thought, hoping to all gods that he did not have to meet Atobe Keigo in his operating theatre ever again. Sanada carefully picked up the broken wine bottle and disposed of the pieces with only a minor scratch on his thumb.

The apartment was a wreck in short. Piles of empty carton boxes that once were filled with steaming Chinese food lay on the counter top; wooden chopsticks still protruding from within them. Had he fired some of his cleaning staff in anger sometime that week? Sanada wondered, but couldn't bring himself to care as he went to hunt down for garbage bags before they had a vermin problem.

Sanada collapsed onto the elegant sofa half an hour later; shoulder muscles aching from the physical exertion of lifting and carrying rubbish from the apartment to the rubbish dump 5 floors down. Sighing deeply, he pondered on meaningless distractions. Anything to get his mind off the man that slept silently in the recliner.

A timid voice broke into his thoughts and he felt himself jolt. "Genichirou?" He smiled at the soft half-asleep tone that Atobe had used. "You're finally home?" Atobe couldn't keep the slight feeling of hope well up inside of him; his senses all fired up from the familiar smell of Sanada's trench coat to the slight fuzzy outline of the physical being.

The sun slowly crept over the horizon, casting hues of red and orange throughout the land. Atobe squinted as the bright light filled the room, quickly averting to stare at his hands. The bare end table top bore no sign of having had empty liquor bottles set upon them, and he slowly realised that he just might have passed out and the alcohol could have began to party in his head.

He decided his head hurt.

Rubbing the heel of his palm above his temple, Atobe didn't notice as Sanada stood up and sat upon the ottoman at his feet. The dull throb subsided enough for Atobe to peer at his lover from behind cold fingers. "Why are you here?"

Sanada was taken aback at the question, his mind running through a million different scenarios but that one. Why? "Keigo…" He frowned as he tried to find the right words to say, knowing that waxing eloquent was only easy when the other was half deluded by love and whatever sap he concocted would sound remotely romantic. That was what he believed anyway. Wh-what can I say?

A rational and logical part of his mind piped up: You could apologise.

But apologise for what? I haven't done anything wrong. Sanada hastily ran a hand through his hair, knowing that he was trying to put all the blame on the elite businessman. Apologise. It was a rather good idea actually. It would save a lot of heartache and explaining…He reflected sourly, understanding all too well that his rational and logical part of his mind that he used so often was once again right.

"Keigo… I'm… I'm sorry," There was silence that greeted that statement, and Sanada could only accept that quiet as a signal to go on, "It's just that… well, there really isn't any excuse for what I have done…" Sanada paused again, unsure of what to say. It was those kind of statements were always so ambiguous and could only be justified with a reason.

"With the hospital being understaffed and my brother having his wedding and the interns getting ready for their exams… I've-." He stopped. No words in his vocabulary at that moment could save the stark reality of what he had really done for so long.

"I've neglected you and I'm sorry. Would you ever consider forgiving me?"

Atobe held his breath, unable to digest the apology in full; the stiff way Sanada held himself showing the tension and anxiety that Atobe knew both of them felt. How Sanada coped with the stress of everyday life, Atobe didn't know. But what really did Atobe expect of the famous doctor? The hospital's ungodly shifts usually didn't allow the luxury of relationships, let alone cater to the desires of one as emotionally needy as he was.

"I haven't been totally fair on you either Genichirou… it really isn't your fault." Atobe brushed away Sanada's bangs, wanting to stare into his lovers eyes that were hidden behind the veil of hair. "I should have been more understanding… I know that you're busy and you really don't have the time to spend with me. I really should be less selfish… after all you are the one saving lives and…"

It was going better than he thought. Instead of the shattering of his relationship with the doctor as he initially anticipated, Atobe found that ironically it was healing. Trust Sanada to live up to his profession inside and outside of the hospital. There wasn't any hostile shield of emotion and all the cards were spread out on the table. Forgive and forget, right?

"I love you, you know that?"

"Of course. Ore-sama knows all." Sanada smirked, half successful in hiding the tender smile. He reached out for Atobe's hand and held it in his hands, amazed at the smoothness that compared drastically from his own work roughened hands.

"You smell terrible, o great ore-sama."

Atobe raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused by the insult. "You don't have the right nose then," he huffed. Wrinkling his nose, he couldn't help repeating the same insult to his 'lazy lover'.

Standing up, Sanada smirked as a great idea came to him; an idea that he was certain both of them could and would most certainly enjoy. He pulled the blue (azure, Atobe had insisted) knitted jumper over his head and threw it onto the white sofa. Atobe crossed his arms, looking unperturbed as Sanada revealed more and more of his skin.

"Up," Sanada commanded him to stand and gently pulled Atobe to stand. The black silk shirt was tugged over Atobe's head smoothly and neither paid any heed to the trench coat that lay crumpled on the floor.

The trail to the bathroom was marked by the odd garment or two and both were certain that the maids would know exactly what had happened. Maids were scary knowledgeable things; they had both found out.

Seating himself on the edge of the marble counter top, Atobe watched as Sanada leant over the luxurious bath tub to adjust the water. He enjoyed the slight rippling of muscle that happened whenever Sanada made any small movement. How the man found time to keep his body so fit, Atobe hadn't a clue.

Pulling open the cabinet, Atobe pulled out his special lavender scent and a large plastic purple bottle of bubble bath; both items held in offering to Sanada, who rolled his eyes exasperatedly at the typical way Atobe made him do everything.

Sanada left both bottles to one side of the bath floor and sat on the edge of the large tub, waiting for the water to fill it up. The bubbles slowly formed and he found himself slightly taken by the miraculous creation of the spherical translucent shape. Atobe smoothly slid off the tabletop, unimpressed at the attention – or lack thereof – that Sanada was showing him.

So he stood in front of the doctor, twining his fingers into the fine strands of black hair. He was about to curl his hand into a fist but heard the doctor purr. Purr! Sanada revelled in the feeling and gently nuzzled Atobe's stomach.

"I've missed you so much, Keigo." Sanada whispered against the smooth expanse of skin. He made sure that every syllable innocently brushed against the sensitive belly button, knowing the man would squirm. Cradling the doctor against his stomach, Atobe smiled, willing the ticklish feeling to go away. "I should have been there for you."

He leant over his lover, dipping his hand into the water which felt warm against Atobe's hand. The golden taps were then turned off by delicate thin fingers. Pulling away from Atobe's embrace, Sanada climbed into the bathtub and settled against the cold ceramic (marble, Atobe informed him later) walls of the container. Atobe followed; indulging in Sanada's chivalry and leant against the far warmer chest of his lover.

Minutes ticked by and neither of them said a word, both savouring the comfortable silence that hadn't been for a long time. Atobe began to play with Sanada's hands. The same pair of godly hands that saved people everyday and he told Sanada so. His lover nuzzled the back of Atobe's neck and then whispered against his ear that he had killed many too.

"But your intent was for them to live."

Sanada sighed; his face darkened slightly trying to weigh the innocent blood that had been spilt to the innocent people that lived. Atobe turned at the waist and took Sanada's face into his hands. "You saved my life before." Sanada snapped out of his reverie and gazed into Atobe's eyes. He recognised both the love and amusement that was apparent yet still he knew that behind those emotions there was a streak of loneliness. "At least you're here now. That's all that counts."

The bubbles floated around them slowly and he discovered a new type of apathy; the kind that Atobe found himself enjoying immensely. It was the lethargy that settled in when embraced by one's lover which felt far more comforting than the white silken sheets that had shrouded him in his sleepless dream.


	3. Envy

**Reviewers**

Thank you for reading both Anger and Sloth. Envy was I believe, one of the worst sins to tackle. It's taken me nearly half a year to churn out this piece and I'm pretty sure there's still room for improvement. There is a "darker" (read: pr0n) piece lurking about and if you want to read it, hop onto my website. It should be the first post there. That one is slightly more different than this one and the plot is better developed there. Please excuse any grammatical errors, it is late and both **shinobee**, my wonderful beta, and I think present tense should go die. May I present to you, Envy.

**Envy**

I had been wondering when you'd show up. The food I had prepared has gone cold by the late hour and waits upon the table that had been set out as if it was some romantic dinner out of a trashy novel. The candles that I had lit were now burnt down to the wick and I wonder if you had any intention of coming at all. I gaze at the clock once more. The same grandfather clock that still stood in the corner. It has witnessed all our fights, all our lies and all our empty promises.

You are a married man with a beautiful two year old daughter as a result of the matrimony and I have seen you laughing with her in your arms, your wife by your side. It makes me jealous to see you with your family as if you hadn't a care in the world when I can only regard myself as a third wheel. I had turned away in disgust for wasting an hour of my already miserable and hectic life to spy on you.

The occasion is marked upon my calendar, your third wedding anniversary that is. You have planned a trip to somewhere exotic for the family; you told me so. Yet, you had stayed behind to tie up some urgent business ends and I wonder if I am also another of those business ends that you have failed to meet for the last few years. I keep reminding you to stop your foolish decisions to keep this affair from continuing but we both know that if it had ended it, it would have been on the night of your marriage.

_I still remember your wedding: the white carnations and roses swathing the entire chapel in their pure light. It was a good choice upon your wife's decision. Your brother stands at your elbow, as the best man, and he looks very smart in his white tailored suit. Your parents are overcome with joy at your nuptial, even if your father's face is as impassive as yours. It was a beautiful ceremony and there are smiles on everyone's face, including yours for the very first time._

_She looked every part the blushing virginal bride and everyone in the chapel was awed by her beauty. It was truly a match to behold and I knew that it was impossible of me to ruin her dreams of marrying the man of her heart; even if the man had unbeknownst to all already own my heart._

_The reception was just as stunningly beautiful as the wedding chapel. I hadn't wanted to attend the reception, but it would hardly be proper of me to celebrate your holy matrimony without an eloquent customary speech and toast which could only have been churned out by the insane amount of alcohol consumed._

"…_Congratulations. Please raise your glasses once more to the Bride and Groom." The entire room mimicked and I had locked eyes with you as I tilted the flute of red pinot noir upwards, draining the liquor in one gulp. It was the speech that you had expected from me – as one of the more fluent friends. No, we were just mere acquaintances now._

_What had we been? 'More than friends but less than lovers,' you had said when I asked. I smiled and buried my own disappointment at your careless answer. It was nice to know when you were wanted._

I don't know why you still insist on the occasional nightly romp. Surely your wife could satisfy you in bed far more than I can. But I could never question your visits when you turn up unannounced on my doorstep. It was the only thing I look forward to on the lonely cold nights that you may come and dispel the loneliness in my heart.

But by then, I had taken your visits for granted and it was to my surprise when my own father and mother had found the supposed 'perfect woman' for me as a permanent way of quelling my apparent impotency. I hadn't bothered to correct them on my sexual activity and definitely not my sexual preference. After all, I had no lover to boast of and the only man who insisted we were nothing short of fuck buddies.

My thoughts are disturbed by a quiet knocking at the door and I know it could only be you. I had asked you to show up four hours ago but I can't have expected you to drive straight over after work. I wasn't a woman that you dedicated yourself to or even remotely important. You had made certain of that.

The door is always unlocked and you walk in with your coat pulled taut around your shoulders. The fabric is glistening with moisture. It is raining, you say. I hadn't noticed for the fire that was crackling in the hearth had drowned out the depressing sounds. You close the door softly and shrug out of your coat, dropping your business bag by the door. By morning, the bag would be gone and you along with it. It was always going to be the same.

"Where have you been?" I ask, watching you undo your shoelaces. Business, you reply; just like every other time I had bothered to mention his unpunctuality. I nod in acceptance and wait for you to walk towards the warm fire where you usually take your scotch. I sit down on the white designer chair opposite the window, unsure for the last time of how to end and finally sever the only thing that is keeping me in Japan.

You look up from the rug with your empty glass in hand. "Close the curtains, Keigo. All we need is the firelight." I sigh, knowing he is right and slowly get off the chair to pull the plush red curtains shut. The curtains are crushed in my grip and I could only delay the eventual ending to all his visits. When I finally turn around and let go of the curtain, you had a bottle of Father's best Shiraz half opened.

When you finally have it uncorked and had resettled yourself on the rug in front of the fire, your eyes beckon me. Moments later, I find myself tucked into your warm body with the bottle of Shiraz at my lips. I know you're watching my throat work and the wine produces such a wonderful buzz in my head that I can not help but swallow another mouthful. I relinquish my claim on the bottle knowing that you too wanted to drink the red wine.

You take a long draught of the wine and I'm satisfied just by watching the flames dance. But you aren't and you seize my lips into a kiss sharing the Shiraz between us. I had asked you why you made it a habit to do that and you always replied as you nuzzle my cheek that everything tasted better that way. I can only mull over my guilt of sharing your lips and your bed more often than your wife has.

_Then everything would be forgotten in the moment as I feel you doing the most wonderful things to my neck. Every damn time you come, you would take me in front of the fire. The romantic almost loving gentle way you treat me makes up for the third or forth time after upon my bed which was reserved only for the most primitive and hard of fucks._

_On the rare occasion that I see you reach that precipice of pleasure, I can only admire the way the lights play over your collarbones and cling onto your shirt sleeve for the ride. The bottle of Shiraz tips onto the floor and spills all over the carpet, to join in one of many stains._

_By the time we have the energy and need to make it to the bedroom, there is a trail of clothes that mark our journey from the living room. Our lips would be locked in a heated battle for dominance in one of our most passionate of desperate kisses and you would have divested me of my clothes before I can even lay a finger on your tie._

_You brutally push me into the mattress and tug impatiently at your clothes, lips never leaving mine as the true disparity of the moment sinks in. I stretch up and pull open the drawers to find lubrication and return to find yourself naked and as beautiful as the day you were born. The tube would be robbed from my hand and I would spread my legs for you, waiting for the invasion of your fingers as you recklessly prepare me in your haste._

Every damn time, my last thoughts would be on the impossible. And this time, it is no different. How it would feel to wake up besides you in the morning and spend eternity with you; to have forever… You bite hard on my shoulder as warning and I can only abandon all thoughts as you push your entire length inside me.

The rhythm is choppy at first, and I can only cling to your broad shoulders, laced with all your years of strict kendo practice. Your harsh breaths against my cheek distract me from the almost nonexistent pain and I cry out with each stroke that hit against my prostate.

_By the last time we fuck, you are truly spent and tired from the day's proceedings. I know you are a considerate lover, the essence on my stomach having been cleaned away by quick efficient movements of your tongue, and could only wish that you were mine. The only sound is of our mixed breaths and the shifting of the bed sheets as you lazily pull me against you._

"_This is the last time, Keigo." You grumble and I always answer with a nod against your warm chest. It's impossible to believe your words when you have been saying the same things since the beginning of our illicit affair. Try again next time when you have convinced yourself._

I wait till your breaths have evened out to escape from your deceiving embrace; the tempting warmth of a lover that I can never have. I can only save tonight's memory as one of precious few that I have of our times together. The only evidence safe tucked in the recesses of my mind as I wash away anymore evidence of sex.

In the end, that's all it is. I sigh and lean against the white tiles, wishing that I hadn't chosen such a pure colour as the interior of my bathroom. I don't know when the tears start to fall and I feel a bitter laugh rising from the back of my throat. I could only wish that you could stay but the rational part of my mind knows full well of the family you have. I sink down to the floor and hug my knees, watching as the steam rises from the hot water that runs around me. The temperature is scalding me and I accept it as penance for committing my sins.

I eventually turn off the water and wrap a towel loosely around my waist, padding quietly to stare at my reflection in the mirror. Apart from my high places in society and numerous other titles, there was only one that applied behind closed doors: I was Sanada Genichirou's whore and my reflection looks back in disgust.

But tomorrow; it will all be over tomorrow. I would leave him everything I own and he could do what he will with this house and my possessions that serve as the catalyst of our memories. It matters not, because by tomorrow, I will be gone.

Warm arms slip around my body and I almost shout in surprise having not heard you enter the bathroom. You are a perpetual source of heat and on normal circumstances I would have leant back into your warmth with the knowledge that there will always be a next time. But, I can not allow myself the luxury this time around.

"Come back to bed."

I close my eyes, not wanting to meet your strong gaze in the mirror. You know it is impossible of me to disobey one of your requests. The hold you have around me tightens and makes me open my eyes in annoyance. I hate it when you do that. You suffocate me.

"I can't sleep without you there, Keigo."

I relent and allow you to guide me back to bed, knowing that you won't stop til you had gotten your way. It is strange to think that I have rubbed off on you. I have learnt the virtue to be patient and you, the sins of selfishness that any exemplary male should not possess.

Then again, no exemplary male would be fucking men four times a week either; which confuses me. You confuse me and it is a problem that my sharp mind can't come up with an answer to. Have you caught wind that I would be leaving Japan? That wasn't possible. My parents and I had planned this with discretion on the forefront of our minds. So there wasn't any possible explanation to the sudden appearance of your tender side.

You stretch out upon the black satin sheets and wait for me to clamber into bed. I turn my back to you and rest on the one foot space on the edge of the king sized bed as far away from you as possible. I can not let myself be seduced by this affectionate side of you. It's a factor that I had neglected to calculate in the solution to our never ending affair and it is something that I can never indulge in.

Then your large warm hand rests gently upon my hip and I can't help but shiver at the love that seems to emanate from it. No. Not love, never love. Your thumb traces small circles on my hip and I slowly turn onto my back, but no more. I can not afford to be any closer to you but yet you compromise by moving closer. Your intoxicating musky scent compelling me to roll over and into the warmth that radiates from your body.

By the time dawn comes, I haven't slept and the hold you had on me has grown slack. I carefully crawl out from underneath the covers and away from you. You have become my guilty addiction and I walk into the living room to gather my clothes from the floor, intent of stopping our relationship once and for all. Putting my clothes on, I procure an envelope that was hidden the night before behind a set of heavy leather bound books. Inside the envelope were the only set of keys and a letter written in my hand.

I walk once more to the bedroom, admiring how beautiful Sanada Genichirou looked in sleep. I can't help but be envious of his new family, something I can never be a part of. It is impossible for two men to be together as society dictates and the pressure of being the only heir to the Atobe name spells out the probability, or lack thereof, of this relationship.

Now that tomorrow had come, I can't help but feel regretful. There are so many things that I could have said or could have done. But it was all too late now. I set the envelope on the counter top and go to put on my shoes, knowing that as soon as I closed the front door, I could not ever walk back in.

Everything is done. We can finally end our little games and stop delaying our misery. I open the door and look over my shoulder once more at the layout of the house; the house that has brought so much pain and pleasure. I was going to start a new chapter in my life and by giving Sanada the only physical reminder, it was finally possible to end this one.


	4. Pride

**Reviewers**

My apologies for how long this chapter took to be written. I have no excuse really aside from real life things and finally graduating from high school. I couldn't decide on one idea of Pride and the original idea I had for Pride didn't seem to encapsulate much of the word so this idea was what I worked with to the very end. Thanks again to my wonderful beta, ** shinobee**, what on earth would I do without you? Please enjoy this chapter and may I see you again next year for Gluttony!

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**Pride**

It was by pure coincidence that he found himself at the old abandoned church off the main road on a stifling and mundane Saturday. There had been no reason for Atobe to be here at such a stifling destination and there were certainly a number of places he could have been. His surroundings were covered in dust, casting the walls with a gray hue. Paint was peeling from the once pristine white walls and general garbage lay strewn over the once holy floors.

Yet there was a certain connection he felt in this establishment to someone he used to see almost religiously. Atobe looked up at the stained glass picture of the Virgin Mary. He could still feel the condemning gaze from her eyes as she passed silent judgement. With a small twisted smirk, Atobe wondered just how many people had joined bodies under her gaze as they sought to fulfil their needs if only for just one moment; one glorious moment where mind became a liquefied pool of ecstasy and emotion.

He had been here once a long time ago, like one of them seeking that one moment. Back when the east wall was still in existence and broken glass didn't litter the grounds. In the heat of the moment, her gaze meant nothing to him with a mixture of perhaps pride and lust that made him uncaring. A hand slowly reached up towards his neck and touched the skin feeling the pulsating heartbeat faintly under his fingers. His memory provided an accurate feel of teeth against his neck and someone's wet seeking tongue against his jugular vein that had made him quiver at the knees.

Closing his eyes, Atobe walked over to the wall where Sanada had roughly pushed him against. He smiled fondly in memory at how quickly the taller man had rendered his shirt into strips of fabric in just a matter of seconds. The echo of buttons dropping onto the floor was still familiar in his ears. Just as the large rough hands that were always seeking, mapping each and every part of his writhing body could still be felt even now under his clothes.

If he closed his eyes, Atobe could still remember the smirk Sanada had on his face. He recalled the dilemma of choosing between losing himself with wild abandon, succumbing himself to the touch and whims of the man that covered him where his upbringing forbid the act of transforming himself to a wanton whore. Atobe Keigo was part of a family that were renowned to be high-maintenance in and out of bed and by no means could Sanada break his schooling with just one lascivious tongue trick. "Don't leave any marks, _Sanada,_" he hissed between parted lips and white teeth, his eyes trained on the top of Sanada's head. The sharp, predatory glance from under dark straight bangs and the taunting smirk carved onto those lips that were gently caressing his exposed collarbone. It was simply impossible to forget such a passionate moment.

The feeling of Sanada's calloused fingers teasing at his shoulder, running along the side of his neck still ran warm along his skin, the trail forever etched in memory. "Oh?" _Or else what Atobe?_ The bastard needn't even vocalise his question, the look in his dark eyes and the confident touch of calloused fingers against his nape asking Atobe just precisely what he would do if he chose to disobey. Their relationship was purely physical and it had taken them a mere few months to learn just which parts to exploit in order to make the other bend to their will. Only that day Sanada had the upper hand early.

Atobe smiled to himself as he wrapped a hand to cup his hip, tasting victory upon his lips still like the kiss he had given to momentarily distort the ever present smirk, just for a moment, a second. It was sometimes hard to compare whose ego was bigger. "People will question and it would be inconvenient," he had said. Sanada hadn't liked that - Atobe remembered the faint flicker of frustration in Sanada's eyebrows before it was smoothed away.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he could feel the warm breath tickle his ear. "Let them question, Keigo. You are _mine_." A nip was used to emphasise the point; the possessiveness in Sanada, a contrast to the usually indifferent taller man who in Atobe's eyes was always hung up about a certain other love interest. To that present day, Atobe would still doubt the truthfulness of that statement.

After their bodies were satiated, Atobe never heard from Sanada again justifying his doubts. A week turned into a month and then into another. Atobe didn't question it, examinations had come up unsuspectingly amongst the fun between the sheets and he did appreciate the lull in his bedroom life to be able to prepare for them. Despite how effortless it seemed to get top marks for his examinations, there was much effort behind the curtains that no one seemed to appreciate. There were moments between scribbling sample answers and reading reference material when he looked down at his phone, expecting and waiting for the piece of plastic to vibrate to life. He didn't know why he was expecting a message from Sanada and it wasn't long thereafter he had convinced himself Sanada had found someone else.

It had only been a few days after that that Sanada had asked mysteriously to meet up at the Tokyo apartment that Atobe kept for them especially. He was in a terrific mood and had perhaps stocked the refrigerator with Sanada's favourite foods. Although there may never be something more than just physicality in their relationship, deep down Atobe did care how Sanada felt. He should have reminded himself how there would never be anything else. It would have saved him just that little bit of heart he thought he had. It wasn't just another typical day spent lazing about after satiating their bodies. Nor was it calming the pleasure demons for another week.

Sanada wanted to end their tumultuous relationship. They had eaten, said customary greetings and made light conversation. Atobe had enough wit not to pry into the lost months. When they receded back into the bedroom, clothes had flown haphazardly everywhere. Mouths moving against one another as frenzied fingers slid over sweat-slicked skin. Open mouths panted heavily for cold air in an attempt to cool down the hot pleasure that was pooled inside of them. Then once, twice it all ended as it always did.

They laid there on satin sheets trying to catch their breath. Sanada had gotten up minutes later to get some warm towels to clean up the mess they created. He purred softly as the Egyptian towels cleaned away his stomach, feeling much rather like a content cat under warm rays of sun. "I can't do this anymore, Atobe." The statement had baffled Atobe for a second until his well practised facade slid back into place to hide the impact of those words. The bed shifted and Atobe had heard the rustle of fabric, the jingle of the belt and the long sounding zip filling the bedroom. The gold towel lay abandoned at the end of the large bed.

"Take care of yourself, Atobe." Sanada disappeared from his bedroom and Atobe sat up, the sheets pooling around his hips. He heard Sanada put on his shoes and then the front door closed with a resounding click and Sanada had disappeared from his life. His earlier good mood was replaced with an empty void of nothing. The vain part inside of him was urging him to stay in bed and forget that Sanada Genichirou ever existed. What good was the tall man outside of the bedroom? Atobe had agreed with his vanity. Sanada could be easily replaced with another just as experienced between his satin sheets. Though a brave smaller portion of him, deep down was echoing that this was perhaps the biggest mistake he would be making.

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Unbeknownst to Atobe, Sanada was outside the church wondering as to the precise motive to what compelled him to visit the place where he had used to meet up with the other boy. Reason seemed to elude Sanada whenever it came to the complex creature that was known as Atobe Keigo. The thing with Atobe – he dares not call it a relationship – was purely based on his bodily needs. There hadn't been any real spark or connection when he had met Atobe during junior high. He was surprised that Atobe had wanted him to stick around for so long now that they were attending university.

Sanada somehow found his way to Tokyo and took to exploring the outskirts of the busy shopping districts. Turning off the main road, he walked into a relative quiet part of Tokyo much preferring the serenity the park offered. Children ran past with kites as their mothers trailed after them pushing prams while engaged in conversation with one another. Being around these bundles of happiness hurt somehow and his feet took him to a part of the park that no one seemed to ever venture into or cared to tend to. With a cynical smirk, Sanada reflected upon how fitting the environment matched with his thoughts and the turmoil that had subsided into numbness inside his stomach.

The small broken swing creaked as a gentle breeze raced past, embracing Sanada in its cold arms. It was times like these that Sanada thought would be rather nice to have something warm or be around something equally so. But it wouldn't be possible any longer. During the months he hadn't seen Atobe, Yukimura had somehow taken up his time. After their examinations were over, they had turned into something short of a couple.

He had tried to be the perfect boyfriend to Yukimura. Chivalrous, courteous and compassionate to each and every one of Yukimura's needs. Things that Sanada hadn't done for Atobe, he was making sure he did for Yukimura. They had at least been happy for a little while, Sanada had been convinced. In all of Sanada's wildest nightmares, he could have never imagined that Yukimura would initiate their separation.

"That won't be necessary anymore, Genichirou," Yukimura had begun, and Sanada could only stop and stare at his now ex-boyfriend who seemed too calm at the time. The words froze him from the inside out, chilling him to the bone. It had hurt when Yukimura declared his love was no longer needed. A love that he was certain Yukimura would need til the sands of time washed away. Yukimura was now happily single and Sanada was now happily miserable.

One thing had led to another and although he had lost Yukimura, Sanada somehow believed he still had Atobe. But unlike Yukimura, Sanada had hoped against all odds that Atobe would run after him when he had left the apartment that night. It would have certainly made him feel wanted and perhaps something that Atobe would have liked to keep around. And now he felt much like the phone upon that bookshelf. His hand brushes against his pocket and he felt the outline of the sleek black number that Atobe had given him, the phone being a convenient way to get in touch; the way of communication to arrange their weekly trysts between the sheets.

Sanada pulled out the phone and stared at the screen, remembering the 42 missed calls and 76 text messages that went unanswered. He had been surprised to see the numbers. But now the LCD screen was blank. No more calls or messages from Atobe ever since he had walked out. It felt awkward now. Sanada felt more of a mere acquaintance. He sighed and looked down at the message his thumb had been typing out. He felt pathetic and deleted the message, just a little disgusted with himself for having this moment of weakness. He didn't need anybody and was certainly not someone who needed sympathy or pity. Calm, solitude and his dojo was where he wanted to be to clear his mind. What good would seeing Atobe do after leaving him?

Torn on the inside, Sanada sat on the nearest available park bench knowing he had to see Atobe in person to apologise properly and if not that, an explanation of what really happened.

A jingle of merry notes startled him out of his reverie and he pulled out the vibrating phone from his pocket. 'Don't you have someone else to please now? You have no reason to see ore-sama.' Sanada stared at the screen, wondering for one moment why Atobe had messaged him instead. A quick shot of panic with a mix of dread flitted through his system. He suddenly developed the sense of unease of having sent his earlier message instead of having deleted it. He quickly navigated to the sent messages with his thumb and instantaneously felt his stomach plummet to the floor. But if Atobe took the trouble to send two sentences, all was not lost.

He went out on a limb and found himself replying. 'Cafe in 10.' Conveniently ignoring the query about Yukimura, Sanada couldn't stop the thoughts of perhaps seeing someone he could open up to even if Atobe didn't feel the same way any longer. Sanada was still compelled to meet Atobe outside of four walls. The cafe was a few minutes' walk from the park and the establishment was a place he used to frequent often with Atobe on weekends. He hoped the short message would generate some form of curiosity within Atobe. They needed to talk properly.

The afternoon found the cafe relatively idle and Sanada sat down in their usual booth. He took the liberty to order their usual afternoon snacks accompanied with a pot of rich white chocolate and coffee blend. Sanada hadn't realised just how much his savoury tooth had missed the concoction that was a trademark favourite of Atobe's. With his back to the door, Sanada sat at their out of the way booth and observed the decor that hadn't changed. That way, no other customers would be privy to his thoughts and the anxiety that was pooling in his gut.

One thing that had changed was the waitress that served them all those months ago. She had streaked her hair with orange and with her usual cheery smile had tried to make light conversation with Sanada commenting about how it had been a long time ago since he had last visited. Something that Sanada blamed on homework, which was partially true as he answered in as less words as possible. She smiled sympathetically, recalling her own days in school and left him alone when she didn't receive a reply from Sanada to serve other customers that had filed in to escape the noisy outside streets.

Sanada found his fingers tracing the ear of the cup and forced himself not to stare at a clock. It made waiting oppressive and seemed all the more longer than it actually was. But he couldn't help the silent counter that was ticking in the back of his mind. One minute became two and that became ten. The grains of time continued to fall and yet there was still no sign of Atobe. It certainly looked like he was not going to turn up. He could tell that the coffee had cooled down. He couldn't bring himself to begin the afternoon tea without the accompanying complaints that were absent. 'If he doesn't show up in 10 minutes, give up.' He thought to himself and knew there were other things to worry about like his iaido and the subjects he was to take that year.

However, Atobe had been outside the shop during that entire time Sanada had been inside. He had watched as Sanada's shoulders drooped from stiff to slumped. Inside, Atobe was willing Sanada to turn around so that he could walk away, but slow enough for Sanada to catch up if he wished. If the taller boy wanted to talk, he would have to come get it and no the other way around. Or at least that was how the mastermind plan of his was laid out to play in this sequence inside his head. Yet it didn't happen and Atobe found himself entering the shop instead, unable to resist the temptation of knowing.

Once he got within earshot, he greeted the waitress perhaps raising his voice a little louder than necessary. He could feel the shocked stare bore into his back which made it easier for him to strengthen the smirk on his face. Turning gracefully around to look at Sanada, he raised an eyebrow. "You called?" Atobe slid easily into the chair, his chair, and folded his arms waiting for an answer.

"Ore-sama is here now upon your request. Don't waste my time. If you are here to gloat ore-sama is not interested in staying." The waitress tactfully, although it may have been more gleeful, provided Sanada ample time to recover from his initial shock at the material appearance of Atobe by choosing that moment to ask if Atobe had anything he'd like that afternoon. Sanada, however, couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that it wasn't his imagination and Atobe who was embodying annoyance perfectly down to the impatient twitch in his foot was sitting in front of him.

Sanada cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "I ordered your usual portion of afternoon tea." He felt shy all of a sudden and found his rehearsed speech fly out the open door as more customers walked in. The waitress left to serve them. He composed himself and drew a discreet deep breath. Sanada Genichirou would not sound like a pathetic boy with a crush on the girl – well in this case guy – next door.

"Why are you here Sanada? Surely you have ... other company to entertain." Sanada winced inwardly, recognising the concealed bitterness which was entirely hard to miss under the extremely displeased tone that Atobe was using. "You made it clear to me that night that you would have nothing more to do with this." It was possible for Atobe to go for on ages if not stopped early and with a soft sigh, Sanada swallowed his pride and apologised.

"I'm sorry.

"It was unfair of me to have done what I did and said what I have. Especially-" Sanada was cut off by an intense glare from across the table, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the silent fury under those bright blue eyes. They matched the azure shirt Atobe was wearing that afternoon and Sanada couldn't help admire that a silent, angered Atobe Keigo was indeed a beautiful sight.

"If you're here to gloat, do it. I don't want to hear how well your adventures are behind closed doors. You'd be wasting my time and this time ore-sama will be the one doing the leaving," Atobe declared, feeling his pride rear up in self defence. It was moments like this when in hindsight Atobe would find himself wishing he had swallowed it and listened out to what Sanada still had to say. Occasions where it would have worked out better if he had just accepted and had not acted upon his instincts; now was one of them.

The sharpened tongue was a crushing reminder of why Sanada had decided to leave the insufferable man in the first place. He had left that day convinced that separating with the man made of wit and quick words was for the better. All the fights between would have stopped, there would be no more seeing Atobe and then it would be blissful days with Yukimura by his side. He felt disorientated and with a calm deep voice asked Atobe if he had really meant that.

Silence ensued.

Sanada was the first to break the silence. "I know you Atobe. Better than you or I can give credit for. But you know the night I left I had almost expected you to come after me. Demanding the way you do to stop walking and return to bed. But you didn't and it was all over. I must have been so easily replaceable in your eyes and have now joined the people that aren't worthy of your time. Is this why Atobe?"

Clenching his hands into fists, Atobe retorted with a disguised poisonous tone, "I guess that is why you left me all those forgotten months ago with nothing. No replies to my messages or no answers to my calls. Simply ignored my existence for that wonderful Yukimura of yours and don't you dare deny that I am incorrect. Oshitari saw you two holding hands. I knew it was over before you initiated it."

Sanada scowled and didn't reply; knowing it was better that Atobe did not think he was hiding behind some excuse even if they were the initial cause to their problems. Having heard no retort or justification from Sanada, Atobe pressed on and spoke, "I had wondered if it was perhaps examination stress that rendered you to the mere state of the Neanderthal that you are incapable of using technology. But two months, Sanada. Not one message to say that you were alive. I suspected that the phone that had been gathering dust in your drawer had only been taken out last night because you had to use your colourful paperclips!"

Sanada was surprised Atobe knew of the whereabouts of his paperclips and recalled that he was the source of the vibrant curled pieces of metal. He remembered the man had given them to him when he had declared his stationary drawer too dull and was desperately in need of colour. Though paperclips aside, he could hear the bitterness in the tone of voice Atobe used and in a moment of insight that greatly rivalled Atobe's skill to read other people, Sanada saw through the facade of arrogance and pride down to the depths within of solitude and loneliness. A man that craved attention that was so much more than mere idol worship could offer. He didn't know what to do and decided the moment would be now or never.

"Yukimura broke it off." Sanada cut in, swallowing the lump in his throat and the urge to crawl into a hole and die. "He, for some unexplainable reason announced that I was unhappy. I wanted to say he was wrong. But do you know why he was right? Because of you. I've missed you terribly." He got no reply and found himself staring at the cup that lay in front of him, wondering when he had become so scared of what was to come. Atobe was but one human, albeit extraordinary, and it was most certainly an honour to have known him for as long as he did.

Sanada looked up when he heard Atobe's chair scrape against the floor; a fleeting panic rose inside of him and with snake-like precision wrapped a hand around Atobe's wrist. Was Atobe really that heartless to get up and walk away? He couldn't bring himself to look at Atobe's face still; his imagination was getting the better of him and he was almost certain the man's beautiful face would be contorted in disgust at the display in front of him.

"Is that it? You're not going to say anything?"

The feeling inside Sanada could only be described as empty. It was tiring and between Yukimura and Atobe, he was drained mentally. All his hopes and dreams crushed by the silence that was in reply to his apology. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry bitterly, maybe even a combination of both.

"Ore-sama was only going to ask them to warm the coffee up. You still have a lot of explaining to do."

Everything was hopefully going to be alright, even if the Virgin Mary would not accept them under her wing.

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**Ending Notes**

Thank you for reading. Hopefully it wasn't too confusing for you to understand! I would love to hear what you think, and please if you pick up any grammatical or spelling mistakes please send a review telling me where.


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